


Something to Hope

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Erotica, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Heterosexual Sex, The Quidditch Pitch: Erotic Couplings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-10-18
Updated: 2005-10-18
Packaged: 2018-10-27 18:37:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10814496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: The losses are many, the price was high, but the war was won. Now in the aftermath Ron and Hermione learn to take joy out of the little things in life and find peace in each other's company.My Ron/Hermione ficathon piece written for Rudhampaiel :)





	Something to Hope

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

_Hope is the thing with feathers_  
That perches in the soul,  
And sings the tune without the words, 

_And never stops at all,_

_And sweetest in the gale is heard;_  
And sore must be the storm  
That could abash the little bird  
That kept so many warm. 

_I've heard it in the chilliest land,_  
And on the strangest sea;  
Yet, never, in extremity, 

_It asked a crumb of me._

_Hope Is The Thing With Feathers--Emily Dickinson._

 

 

Hermione lay on a large checkered blanket spread out on the bank of a small pond behind the Burrow. She was reading a particularly fluffy book and enjoying the warm breeze that carried the sweet scent of wild flowers with it. 

It had been so long since she'd been able to just relax outdoors, unencumbered by the nagging worry of a Death Eater attack, it felt almost like she was dreaming. They'd lost so much in the war. Hermione had cried so many tears she wasn't sure she had any left, but today she refused to cry. Voldemort was gone, Harry was alive and recovering, and it was almost a disservice to those who had died to remain locked indoors one more day. They were free again. That's what the sacrifice had been for, and she'd be damned if she'd let those sacrifices be in vain. 

 

She had just got absorbed in the book, drifting away with the vivid imagery, when she heard the sound of footsteps trudging towards her location. She spent years fighting, had been forced to camp out months at a time in war camps, and the sound of unannounced footsteps was enough to make her draw her wand and point it at the intruder. 

She lowered it when she saw it was just Ron walking towards her, clad in a pair of faded jeans and white cotton shirt. He was frowning, glaring at her menacingly and Hermione groaned in irritation as she rolled onto her back and went back to reading. 

"What do you think you're doing?" 

Hermione peered over the pages of her book, arching at eyebrow at Ron who stood above her, his muscular arms crossed over his chest in a stance he clearly thought was intimidating. 

"I'm reading." She lifted the book and pointed to the lines of print. "See, they use words to create sentences, which when grouped together properly can become paragraphs and eventually it creates a story."

Ron wasn't amused. His lips pressed together in a thin line, and for just the moment Hermione caught a glimpse of Mrs. Weasley in him. 

 

"You didn't tell me where you were going."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I was under the impression that I was a grown woman and could make decisions without your approval," Hermione said, the sarcasm bitingly obvious. 

"You should be in bed," he sighed, weariness sinking into his voice. "You scared me half to death when I came home and found you gone."

Hermione relented then, knowing how truly worn out he was. Ron had spent countless hours aiding with the search and recovery missions in the hope of finding more survivors in the aftermath of the final battle. It broke her heart, so many souls lost, so many more injured. She didn't know how much longer they'd search through the rubble, but it seemed they were all unwilling to give up. Not everyone was as lucky as she'd been.

"I'm sorry. I should have left a note. I just had to get out. . . I felt like I was suffocating in that room. It was either this or start ripping down all those hideous orange posters."

 

"I could have replaced the posters."

Hermione frowned and tried to ignore how handsome he looked with the sun behind him, outlining his tall, solid frame that moved with a strange sort of masculine grace. He'd grown to be a strikingly attractive man, but that still didn't change the fact that he'd become the world's biggest pest since her release from St. Mungo's. 

"Ron, please, I know you've had a hard couple of weeks, but --"

Ron laughed incredulously. "A hard couple of weeks? That's the understatement of the century! Now let's head back, I'm starving."

"You head back, I'm going to finish reading."

"I don't feel comfortable leaving you alone," Ron said firmly, reaching down to help her up.

 

Hermione brushed his hand away. "You'll get over it." 

"Stop playing around, Hermione. Come on back to the house. I'll make you some tea and then you can have a nap."

Ron's voice was soft and soothing, sugar sweet as though he were talking to a precocious child. Hermione saw red. She was sick and tired of being treated as though she might break. The fact that Ron obviously saw her as childlike stung her ego. She wanted him to see her as a woman, not some misguided pet. 

Her fury raged and she shoved at him, ready to give him a piece of her mind, but her words froze in her throat when she watched Ron loose his footing and topple backwards. His eyes grew wide in surprise right before he crashed into the pond, dousing Hermione with the tidal wave of water that splashed from around him. 

She blinked in shock, brushing the soaking strands of hair away from her face as Ron coughed and sputtered, rising to his feet instantly. He was looking back at her through an over long, wet fringe, gapping at her like a large fish. Then suddenly a small smile dusted his lips, only to be replaced by a genuine one that lit up his whole face and made the skin crinkle around his eyes. It was one of his boyhood smiles, the kind that had always melted her heart. Then he did something she'd thought he forgot how to do -- he laughed. 

Ron leaned over and gripped his side as he laughed heartily, hardly able to grasp for breath and it was infectious. Hermione found herself laughing too as she got up on her knees and reached to help Ron out of the pond.

 

"I wasn't expecting that," Ron said between bouts of laughter as he crawled out of the pond, a soaking, dripping mess. "Oh Christ, Hermione, and they say I'm the one with the temper."

Hermione giggled harder. "I'm sorry,"

"Yeah, I can tell," he said, still grinning as he ran a hand through his hair to brush the fringe out of his eyes.

"Here, let me help you dry off." Hermione reached for her wand, intending on doing a drying spell.

"Don't bother," Ron mumbled through the wet fabric of his shirt as he pulled it over his head and tossed it on to the grass. "Feels nice. We used to go swimming in this pond when we were kids. I always liked laying in the sun afterwards."

He laid back on the blanket, laced his hands behind his head and shut his eyes, obviously enjoying the warm summer day. He kicked his shoes off next, and sighed, completely oblivious to the fact that he was half naked. Hermione stared at his chest and arms, watching the way the muscles flexed slightly as he breathed. Her eyes drifted lower to his stomach that was flat and hard with a faint dusting of reddish hair that lead below the waistband of his jeans.

 

Hermione sighed and looked back up, glancing nervously at Ron who was raising an eyebrow at her. "What?"

"Nothing!" she said a little too quickly, noticing the way the water droplets sparkled on his skin. "Nothing. . ."

Ron frowned then, sitting up on his elbows. " Are you okay? You look flushed. We could walk back."

Hermione groaned and flopped onto her back again. Erotic fantasies were swirling around in her head and he couldn't care less. She'd been sharing a room with him for almost two weeks, yet he insisted on sleeping in the other bed. At first, it hadn't been a problem, she'd slept most of the time anyway, too weak to eat, let alone think about the sexy redhead who spent his every free moment fussing over her. He'd been a comfort then, to know that he was just a heartbeat away. Now, it was something else. She wanted more than just someone to fetch her supper. She wanted him to live up to the words that he'd said before the final battle. The ones he'd sworn were true, yet on all accounts looked to be a lie. 

"Did you mean it?" Hermione said suddenly, unable to hold back anymore.

"Mean what?"

 

"What you said. . . before," Hermione said and then gave into her nervousness and bit at her lip.

Ron sat up, looking at her hesitantly. "Oh, before the final battle when I said --" 

"When you said you loved me," Hermione finished for him.

"Yeah, I meant it. . ." he mumbled, picking up a blade of grass and studying it intently. "I just reckoned. . ."

"Reckoned what, Ron? I'm sick of this!"

"I reckoned you wouldn't love me back, okay!" Ron shouted back. "I failed you, Hermione. How could you love someone who failed you so miserably?"

 

Hermione sat back then, looking at him in confusion. "Failed me how? What are you talking about?"

Ron turned towards the lake, using his shoulder to block her view of his face. "I let them get you. I. . . I was so busy making sure Harry made it, I wasn't able to protect you."

"It wasn't your job to protect me, Ron. You did what you were supposed to do. If something had happened to Harry we all would have lost."

Ron's was shaking his head in self-recrimination. "No, you don't know what it was like when I finally found you. . . I thought. . . I thought you were dead. There was so much blood, and I knew that you'd suffered, and I just. . ." His voice cracked, and his head dropped into his hands as his shoulders started to shake. ". . . You were just lifeless in my arms. I. . . Oh God."

Hermione went to him. She ran her hands over his broad, freckled shoulders, coaxing him to her, until with no where else to go, Ron's forehead fell against the curve of her neck and broken sobs racked his body. 

"You didn't fail me. It wasn't your fault."

 

"They told me that you'd been tortured and all those nights I sat up with you at St. Mungo's, all I could imagine was you wandering about in your dressing gown handing me old gum wrappers for the rest of our lives," Ron choked out as his body still shook violently.

Hermione was silent. It'd be a lie to say that his words weren't churning up her own awful memories of black-cloaked figures, and horrible screams that she realized later were her own. She'd had those fears too, fleetingly through the pain. She'd never thought to wonder how everything had affected Ron. He'd escaped with barely a scratch on him, how awful must it have been to see the others he loved suffering. Especially after already having lost so much. 

His hands were running up her arms, and one laced into her hair, almost as if he was assuring himself that she was still there.

"Ron, it's okay. . . I'm fine. I'm better then fine. I feel alive. Those things were awful, but they're over," Hermione said, brushing the overlong red hair off his forehead, knowing it had been months since he'd had it cut. 

Ron didn't respond and just held her. They stayed like that until his breathing became even and his shaking stopped. She soothed her hands over his bare back and she had to will herself not to notice how the muscled skin felt under her fingers. 

"I'm sorry," Ron finally rasped against her neck without lifting his head. "You must think I'm a bloody poof for coming apart like that."

 

"You know I'd never think that. . . I think it's good," Hermione whispered as her fingers trailed up to run through his wet hair. "It's not good to keep everything bottled up. . . When was the last time you cried?"

"My mum and dad's funeral."

Hermione sighed, surprised that Ron could say it so bluntly when for years he couldn't speak about his parents deaths at all. "Then it was a long time in coming."

"Yeah, I guess." Ron shrugged, and then his stomach grumbled and he gave a short laugh. "I forgot to eat today. . . I'm starving."

"Well, then let's go back. Is Ginny home from visiting Harry?"

Ron shook his head. "No, I stopped by the hospital before I came home and she's planning on spending another night up there."

 

"How was Harry?" 

"Sick of being in the bleeding hospital. I don't know why they won't just let him come home already," Ron said as he finally lifted his head and turned from her to wipe at his eyes. "Come on, let's go back. . . I'll make dinner."

"Oh, I can do it," Hermione piped in as she gathered her book and stood. "I really am feeling much better."

Ron winced grabbing his wet shirt and the blanket. "No thanks."

"Are you insinuating that I'm a bad cook?"

Ron smiled. "No, I'm telling you flat out. . . You may be a brilliant witch, but you're a horrible cook."

 

Hermione couldn't help but laugh, knowing it was true. Culinary skills weren't her greatest talent. Together they walked back to the Burrow, letting everything else go until they were up to talking about it.

~*~

Hours later, Hermione lay in bed staring at the darkened ceiling of Ron's room. For some reason, the Burrow felt eerie late at night. It seemed so empty that sometimes her mind would run away with her and she felt like she could almost hear the ghosts of the past whispering in the hallways.

It had lost a lot of its warmth after Ron's parents were killed and it got steadily colder with every Weasley's death until she almost hated being there. Though, things were better when Ginny was around. She possessed her mother's natural domestic talents. Harry would be home soon and that would certainly brighten the place up. Hermione supposed the time would come when they'd move out, though she wouldn't be surprised if Ginny stayed on. 

 

Her mind drifted to Ron and the events of that afternoon and she turned her head to see him sleeping on his back on the other bed. He usually only slept in pajama bottoms, especially since the summer heat was especially brutal lately, even his sheets were kicked to the foot of the bed. A strip of moonlight illuminated him and Hermione stared as his bare chest rose and fell steadily in sleep. He put in long days with the recovery efforts, and with worrying over her, Harry and Ginny, by bedtime he was usually exhausted.

He looked so beautiful and she loved him so much. Her heart sang with the knowledge that he loved her too. She turned on her side and bit her lip. Funny, it hadn't seemed important before, in the midst of war, but now she wished she knew a little more about how to please a man. It was almost shameful that at twenty-three, she was still a virgin. She'd missed out on so much. With all sadness and death, she felt like she'd been robbed of the rest.

Hermione hadn't realized that she made her decision until she found herself slipping out of bed and quietly walking to Ron's. Her heart was beating furiously all of sudden, but she couldn't stop herself from crawling into his bed. They were both adults and they loved each other. There was no reason why she shouldn't be with him. 

Ron jerked awake when she brushed against him and Hermione could see him blinking in the darkness as he turned to her. 

"Wha'. . .Hermione?" he mumbled and rubbed his eyes. "What are you doing?"

"Can I sleep in your bed tonight?" 

 

Ron swallowed hard and shifted uncomfortably. "Are you sick?"

Hermione shook her head and bit her lip, hoping she wouldn't have to spell it out for him. 

"I don't think I'd get much sleep if you sleep next to me."

Hermione sat up and rested her chin on her knees, being aware that the old cannon's shirt she was wearing slid up her thighs, leaving them bare. "That's kind of what I was hoping for." 

Like a dear caught in lamplights, Ron looked at her exposed legs glowing in the moonlight, and then stared back up at her wide-eyed. "I-I don't think you understand, Hermione."

 

Hermione sighed in irritation. "Ron, when in the past twelve years have I ever given you the impression that I'm stupid? I understand perfectly."

Ron contemplated her for a long moment and then slowly sat up next to her. He ran a hand through his hair once before he turned to her, looking very serious. "This is a big step. Are you sure you're ready for it?"

"Would I be here if I wasn't sure?"

Ron took a deep breath and nodded. His eyes ran over her bare thighs once again, but he still spoke hesitantly. "Have you ever. . ."

"No, I haven't. . . Is that a problem?"

"No!" Ron said instantly, but then looked embarrassed and lowered his voice. "I mean, No. . . It's not a problem at all. It's just. . . I've never. . ."

 

"Oh please, spare me," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "I know you've done it. You think I didn't hear you and Harry stumbling back into camp all those nights?"

Ron had the good grace to blush, and even in the darkness she could see embarrassment flood his face. "Most of the time we were just out getting pissed. . . It's not like we were off shagging a bunch of birds or anything."

"So you're telling me you've never slept with a woman? Not in all these years," Hermione asked sarcastically. 

"No, I have," Ron whispered, looking away for a second. "I was going to say that I'd never done it with a virgin. . . You're still recovering and I don't want to hurt you."

"I told you I feel fine," she huffed, feeling a little irritated that this was taking so much work. "Do you want to do it or not?"

"I can wait if you're not ready."

 

"Oh, for heaven's sake," Hermione said, now totally exasperated. He couldn't get more clueless if he tried.

Not knowing how to put it any more bluntly to him, she got on her knees and grabbed the hem of the shirt she was wearing, pulling it over her head in one swift motion. Ron's eyes grew so wide she feared they may fall right of his head. Red faced, he stared at her bare breasts and flat stomach.

"Do you want me, Ron?" 

"I. . . Yes, it's just. . ." He continued to stared hard at her exposed body and then let out an audible groan. "Oh fuck, Hermione."

She heard his control waver and the next second he reached out and grabbed her arms, pulling her to him until her breasts crushed against his bare chest. His mouth assaulted hers in a rough kiss and she gasped in surprise at his fierceness. He took advantage of her shock as his tongue parted her lips, plunging into mouth and processing it. She moaned, leaning heavily against him and gripping his shoulders. 

"I'm sorry," he said, breathless as he pulled away. "You're just so. . . and it's been so long. . . and I. . Oh, bugger. . . " He groaned again and gazed down between their bodies, looking entranced as he reached up and cupped one of her breasts in his rough hand. He rubbed his thumb over the tip and then leaned down until his breath was hot against her "You're just so beautiful."

 

He laved his tongue over her hardened nipple and then sucked it into his mouth, letting his teeth scrape softly against the sensitive skin. Hermione gasped, arching into him and fisting one hand into the hair that curled at the nape of his neck. He moved to the other breast and pangs of pleasure shot through her, going straight to center, creating an intense throb of need she was unprepared for. Unwillingly, her hips bucked against him. Ron groaned in response, his voice humming against her skin and Hermione arched against him again, searching for relief from the coiling pressure he was creating. 

"Shit, Hermione. . . Don't do that," Ron said, finally releasing is hold on her breast and grabbing her waist to still her movements. "It's too fast, I'm going to end up fucking you."

"Isn't that the idea?" Being intensely curious, she reached down to touch him, running her hand over the hard length of him, feeling the heat of his arousal through his pajama bottoms. "Oh, it's warm. . . I can feel it. Does it hurt?"

"Christ, Hermione don't. . ." he gasped incredulously. "D-don't touch me."

"Why, you touched me?"

"It's different," he said, trying to pull her hand away, but failing as she stroked him in retaliation, dragging a long moan out of him. "Fuck, bugger. . . I can't think when you do that."

 

Hermione grinned, loving the low hitch in his voice and feeling incredibly womanly that she'd caused it. "You're enjoying it."

Her smile faltered when Ron seemed to rally his senses and trailed his hand over her hip and down her stomach. His fingers slipped past the lining of her knickers and her breath caught. He was staring at her intently as his touch grew bold, brushing against the curls between her legs, then slipping inside her warmth, making Hermione's thighs squeeze together. 

"Oh, no, Hermione. . . Don't close me out now," Ron said, using his other hand to pull her tighter against him as he continued to touch her intimately. "You touch me, I touch you. . . Isn't that the game we're playing?"

"I don't. . . " Hermione whispered, finding that her words were trapped in her throat as he continued his quest, easily finding her clit and rubbing it in a torturously slow manner. "Y-you're teasing me."

"Fair is fair," he whispered against her neck as he leaned to place a kiss there, sucking lightly at the hollow of her throat and making the ache inside her grow stronger. "Just being around you is a tease. . . All I have to do is look at you and I'm hard."

Somewhere along the way, the huntress had become the hunted and Hermione forgot to touch him altogether as the pulsating crescendo built, making her move wantonly against his hand in a silent plea for more. Still his touch was soft, feather light and so torturous that she had to bite her lip to keep from begging out loud. Little mewing noses were coming from the back of her throat. Her legs were shaking, protesting the kneeling position she was in, but it didn't matter, she didn't dare move and distract Ron from touching her. 

 

"Ron, please," she whispered, unable to hold onto her pride a second long. "Please help me. . .Make it. . . Oh, God!"

Hermione's head fell back as Ron responded to her pleas by touching her in earnest, rubbing his fingers against her in a firm, fast motion that left her grasping for breath. Ron's voice was hot on her neck as he whispered encouragement to her, spurring her on until his own breathing was harsh and irregular. 

Then the tension that had been building in her suddenly sprung free, releasing a flood of warmth and heat that poured over her body in waves of pulsating bliss. The shuddering pleasure was white-hot and all consuming, making Hermione grip at Ron's shoulders as she cried out his name in broken sobs. 

When the blinding release started to fade, Hermione collapsed against Ron, noting for the first time that his hands were shaking as he lowered her to the mattress. Hermione closed her eyes, letting her head fall back against the pillow, still glowing from the after effects of her climax. 

"Hermione," Ron rasped, leaning down to place another lingering kiss over her pulse point as his heavy breathing stirred the hairs against her neck. "I need to feel you. . . Just feel. I won't go all the way. . . I won't hurt you."

"Oh," Hermione shook herself from her daze, realizing what he was talking about, noting how his how body trembled and his voice vibrated in a low timbre against her skin. "Yes, I want to feel you, too. . . Just tell me what to do."

 

Ron moved off her and ungracefully slid her panties down her legs until Hermione kicked them off. His gaze was hot against her skin, his eyes the deepest shade of blue she'd ever seen as he looked at her bare body for a second and then leaned back over her, allowing some, but not all of his weight, to press her into the bed. 

"You're so beautiful," he said in a shaking voice as he pushed his pajama's down past his hips, freeing himself so that his length brushed against her naked stomach. "Here, move your legs a bit."

Fascinated with his intense response, Hermione complied and casually draped one leg over his hip, as the other fell across his thigh. "Like that?" 

"Yes, just like. . ." Ron moved down until his erection slid against her entrance. ". . .that. . . Oh fuck. . " He moaned, shifting his hips until their bodies were touching intimately, with his hard length resting against her moist heat. "Oh, god, you're wet. . . and you feel. . . I won't hurt you. . . I'll just. . ."

"Ron, it's okay," Hermione said, trying not to get irritated that he was still fussing over her health, but instead savoring the new thrill of excitement that rushed over her when she realized that after all these years, they were finally going to be lovers. "I won't break. . . I feel fine."

Ron nodded and slid a hand between their bodies, gripping himself and guiding the tip of his erection inside her. Ron was panting and the knowledge that she could affect him so intensely caused a fresh stirring of desire to build in Hermione. She arched into him, gasping as more of him slid inside her. 

 

"Oh, Ron," she moaned, savoring the feel of him stretching her, filling her body. Unable to help herself, Hermione reached down and gripped at his lower back, trying to bring them closer together. "I want more of you."

"Shhh," Ron coaxed, releasing a shaky breath and wrapping a hand around her waist to still her movements up against him. "You need to stop moving. . . I'm going to lose it."

Hermione had to bite back a scream of frustration that he was still fussing over her. Knowing that yelling at him would ruin the mood, she reached up and fisted her hands in his hair, pulling his mouth to hers and kissing him. She parted her lips, swallowing his groan of desperation as he kissed her back fiercely. His tongue slid in and out of her mouth, mimicking the actions his body would make if he'd just allow himself to let go. Slowly, Ron's hips began to move against hers, as though the wires in his brain had got crossed and he simply couldn't help himself. Inch by inch, he slid deeper, slowly driving Hermione mad. 

Nearly full and aching, she was wild with passion. Forgetting her seduction, she released his mouth and her head whipped against the pillow. She was writhing beneath him, wanting so desperately for him to fill the emptiness completely, to be buried fully inside her. 

Her actions must have affected Ron, because he was moaning, cursing softly under his breath until finally, with an animalistic growl, his hips thrust hard against her, breaching her barrier and sheathing himself in her to the hilt. Hermione gasped at the twinge of pain, but it was nothing next to surge of pleasure she felt at him deep inside her, the glory of knowing she'd won. 

"I'm sorry," he panted, leaning up on his hands to look down at her. "Are you okay? Fuck, I didn't mean to do that. . . I. . ."

 

"Ron, if you stop I'll hex you," she moaned, shifting and gasping again when she felt him pressing bluntly against her cervix. "I swear I will. . . Please make love to me. . .please."

With a groan of defeat, Ron pulled out of her, and Hermione thought for a moment that he was going to stop despite her threats, but then his hips moved forward again. His pace was slow at first, but quickly became something much more primal as his body started pounding into her, filling her, pulling out and filling her again. The friction of his movements caused blinding heat to surge through her and she arched into him, countering his thrusts as best she could. She was moaning and begging him not to stop, running her hands over his back, feeling his tense muscles beneath her fingers as he claimed her, made love to her, fulfilled the promise of hope that Hermione had fought so long for.

Light sparked behind her closed eyelids as she climaxed a second time, screaming his name and bowing beneath him as her body was racked with shuddering pleasure. She pulled Ron with her into oblivion. His thrusts were erratic as he cried out and the warmth of his seed spilled inside her. 

Once they came down for their high, Ron rolled off her almost instantly, leaving her feeling bereft as he flung an arm over his eyes and tried to gain his breath back. Once his breathing had fallen into a more steadying rhythm, Ron turned on his side, looking at Hermione in concern. 

"Don't ask me if I'm all right," she said, reading his worry instantly. "I'm fine."

Ron hesitated for a moment. "Hermione, I'm sor--"

 

"If you say you're sorry for that, I'm leaving," Hermione said in a reprimanding voice. "You have to stop treating me like a child, Ron."

Ron let out a short laugh and shook his head. "Hermione, trust me, I don't think you're a child. . . I think you're incredible."

She smiled as the warmth of happiness filled her. She'd never been more sated, her whole body still hummed from the after affects of their lovemaking. It was a wonderful feeling and she was hit with a surge of gratitude. 

"Ron, thank you. . . that was--"

"Amazing," he finished, smiling back at her. "Really amazing. . ."

"I love you," she breathed, unable to hold back her feelings a moment longer. 

 

"I love you, too," he said, reaching for her and pulling her to him until her body was draped over his. He placed a chaste kiss on her lips and then fell back against his pillow. 

They were silent for a while and Hermione contented herself to listen to rhythm of his heartbeat, so strong and steady, savoring the knowledge that they were both still alive and healthy. 

"Hermione. . . "

"Hmmmm?"

"Marry me."

Shock surged through her and she lifted her head to look at Ron incredulously. "What?"

 

"You heard me," he said, looking young and more relaxed then she'd seen him in years. "Marry me. . . I'm sick of being sad, aren't you?"

"Yes," Hermione said, laughing when she saw that Ron was trying to figure out which part of his question she was agreeing too. "Yes, Ron, I'll marry you."

"Oh, good," Ron said, leaning up to kiss her and then relaxing against the pillow once more. "God, it feels nice to have something to look forward too. . . A reason to hope."

"I always had hope."

Ron stretched out across the bed, sighing contently. "I know and that's why I love you. You always gave me something to hope for."

****************

This story was written for Rudhampaiel for the Ron/Hermione ficathon the lovely LadyAnabelle set up on LJ which you can check out here: http://www.livejournal.com/users/r_h_ficathon 


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